That morning at Gyeongbokgung Palace felt like a scene straight out of Bridgerton: men and women promenading through the flower gardens, parasols in hand.
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Except, in place of hopeful British debutantes in pastel brocade gowns, there were Korean men and women in stunning silk hanboks.
It was April, all of Seoul was abloom, and everyone was gathering – as couples, families, groups of friends – to celebrate the fleeting beauty of the season, posing for photos under the trees laden with delicate white and pink flowers.
As I stood there admiring the tableau, I noticed that many of my fellow cherry blossom chasers were local, and that there were far fewer of the foreign tourist throngs that neighbouring Japan has been struggling with.
Compared with Japan’s 3.91 million visitors during sakura season in April last year, South Korea received about 1.7 million over the same period, making it a more compelling (and no less photogenic) choice for a springtime trip.
Photos: Charukesi Ramadurai
My trail had started early in the morning at another of Seoul’s five grand palaces from the Joseon era, the Changdeokgung Palace, which enjoys UNESCO World Heritage status as the best preserved of the quintet. There, I had hurried through the stunning palace complex, crossing courtyards and stone bridges, peeping only briefly into throne rooms and prayer halls on my way to the secret garden at the rear.
This garden, sprinkled with ponds and pavilions, is just as magical today as it must have been in the days when kings and queens enjoyed moonlit nights and changing seasons. And since it’s separately ticketed to restrict the number of visitors at any given time, I found plenty of tranquil nooks to sit in and muse over the ephemeral quality of life itself.
It was the kind of scene that provoked poetry and pondering in equal measure.
On the other hand, at Gyeongbokgung Palace – where I had my brush with the dear gentle readers of the ton – I was so absorbed with people-watching that there was no chance for quiet introspection. Framed by moody green hills on one side and the buzz of the city on the other, this is the largest and, in my opinion, the prettiest of the palaces. As far as I was concerned, the cherry blossoms were just the icing on this royal cake.
Photos: Charukesi Ramadurai
Over the next few days, I ventured to different corners of Seoul in search of more flowers. At the park near Seokchon Lake, I unexpectedly ran into the Seokchon Lake Cherry Blossom Festival, which I discovered later to be an annual event. With over 1,000 cherry trees, this is one of Seoul’s premier spring sites.
I spent hours here, stopping every few minutes for yet another photo, trying to take in as much of the spectacle as possible. It was wonderful to see locals celebrating that glorious evening, but my heart ached secretly with envy that they could enjoy this year after year.
Speaking of spring flowers and festivals, I also headed out early on a Sunday to catch the Wonmisan Azalea Festival in the satellite city of Bucheon.
While Seoul’s cherry blossoms have soft and delicate hues, there was nothing bashful about these azaleas, which had carpeted the entire landscape in dark pinks and purples.
This was a veritable fiesta, complete with food vendors and ice cream trucks, crafts stalls peddling all manner of handmade goods, and buskers belting out soulful tunes. Many visitors had come in large groups to picnic under the sprawling trees. I was glad I hadn’t given in to the temptation of lingering in Seoul for this.
Photos: Charukesi Ramadurai
But my most delightful cherry blossom sighting came at Bongeunsa Temple in Gangnam, which was made all the more special by the fact that I was not there in search of flowers. I had been captivated by its 1,200-year-old history, and had briefly contemplated signing up for a two-day temple stay programme. That was not to be, but I still had to go see the temple with its giant, modern statue of the Maitreya Buddha.
The site was a study in contrasts – an oasis of calm in the midst of the glam and glitter of the Gangnam neighbourhood, right opposite the swanky Starfield COEX Mall. After a quick look at the prayer halls and shrines, I walked up the trail leading to the tiny garden at the top. All along the way, the trees had bloomed, forming a cherry blossom canopy I could walk – no, float – under. At the very top, I closed my eyes and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. Real life could wait.
